


Breaks Never Caught Part IV

by weavetatter



Series: Breaks Never Caught [4]
Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Brotherhood, Friendship, Gen, Medical Inaccuracies, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-29
Updated: 2016-09-29
Packaged: 2018-08-18 11:19:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8160316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weavetatter/pseuds/weavetatter





	

 

 

 

 

 Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, only play in the universe. WWE owns all.

I also don't write the real people. If I'm writing about Roman, I'm writing about Roman, not Joe Anoa'i

 

 

 

 

 

Dean jerked awake, not sure why. He'd fallen asleep on the sofa while playing Call of Duty. The controller was still in his hands, and the tv was still on. Everything looked the way it had when he'd come in here, the house was quiet...

Then he heard Roman throwing up in the bathroom upstairs and realized that was what had awakened him. He went up the stairs slowly, knowing his brother wouldn't want him to see that, and by the time he walked into the master bedroom, Roman had just finished brushing his teeth. He was pale and shaky except for the flush of fever along the high cheekbones, silver eyes shadowed with misery and fatigue. Dean didn't say anything, just pulled Roman's arm across his shoulders and let his brother lean on him, guiding his steps back to the bed. "Down you go, Big Dog."

Roman sank back onto the mattress, eyes closed, massaging his temples. Dean eyed him. "When's the last time you ate anything, bro?"

Roman shrugged, not opening his eyes. "It's been awhile."

"That's probably why you're puking. You're taking meds on an empty stomach. How about I make you a can of soup? I saw some down in the kitchen."

His brother nodded tiredly. "Yeah, okay."

"Don't fall asleep. I don't wanna get punched when I have to wake you up again."

Roman smiled faintly. "I don't have the energy to punch you, man, so I wouldn't worry too much about it."

Dean laughed on his way out the door. Downstairs, he dug out the can of chicken noodle soup he'd seen earlier, finding several more behind it in the pantry, and heated it up quickly in the microwave before carefully carrying it back upstairs.

Roman managed about half the bowl before putting it aside, and Dean counted it a victory.

"Rome, man, why didn't you tell me you weren't feelin' good before?" he asked. Roman shrugged, tossing back the meds and washing them down with the water on the nightstand. 

"I didn't want you worrying about me," he said honestly. "I didn't realize it was pneumonia, obviously, or I would've said something. I just thought it was a bad cold, maybe the flu, and there really wasn't anything you could do, so why worry you?"

"Idiot," was Dean's response to that.

"Yeah, whatever."

Dean stood and collected the bowl, heading for the door. "Get some sleep, Big Dog."

"Yes, Daddy," Roman said sarcastically. Then, "Dean."

At the door, Dean turned. "Yeah?"

"Thanks for bein' there."

"Shutup. You'd've done the same for me. Go to sleep. Wait, first gimme your doctor's phone number."

Roman looked wary. "For what?"

"So I can call and make an appointment for you. Duh. Amann  wants you to see your regular doc here too."

Roman reached for his phone and read off the name and number slowly enough for Dean to enter it into his own phone. Dean nodded and stuck the phone back in his pocket. " 'Kay. I'll call after I wash this bowl out. _Now_ go to sleep."

Roman slid down under the covers, closing his eyes. "You're a good little brother, Deano."

"Oh, shutup."

Roman grinned without opening his eyes, and Dean left him alone. Ten minutes later, he'd made an appointment for Roman the following day, and placed an order for Chinese food to be delivered for dinner. Satisfied with his errands, he went back upstairs to his room and pulled out a book he'd started but not had the chance to finish. Roman had started coughing again, which told Dean his brother had fallen asleep again, but he stayed in his room in case he was needed. He was pretty sure that the nausea was going to assert itself again.

He got wrapped up in the book and was startled into actually jumping when his phone rang a little later. He considered just ignoring it, but the display showed that it was Jimmy Uso, so he answered it. "Hey."

"Dean, it's Jimmy. Where you at, man? You with Roman?"

"Yeah, Dr. Amann got me pulled off active to stay with him. We're in Colorado."

"Is he okay? He's not answering his phone. I know Amann said he has pneumonia..."

"Bro, you might as well just call me directly. Roman's on some heavy-duty meds, man, he probably doesn't even _hear_ the phone. He's asleep. He's got an appointment tomorrow with the regular doc, and Amann said he was gonna check up on him too. Rome's coughing a lot, got a high fever, and he don't feel great, but he'll be okay."

"But pneumonia's no joke, man, are you sure?"

"Hey, Amann said that as long as he gets the rest he needs, Rome'll get healthy again. Got no reason not to believe him. I'm just here to make sure Rome doesn't do anything but rest. And you and me both know he wouldn't stay down if someone wasn't here to make him. He's _your_ cousin; you know how stubborn he is."

Jimmy laughed at that. "True that!"

"See? I got this. So how are things on your end?"

They talked about work for a few more minutes before hanging up, and Dean went to check on his older brother. Satisfied that Roman was still asleep, he headed back to his room and his book.

 

 

*RR*RR*RR*RR*RR*

 

 

After the Pittsburgh show, Raw headed to Florida. Once he got there, Seth rented a car and drove to Roman's house, though he wasn't sure why he was doing it, or that Roman wouldn't simply punch him right off the bat. Still, he went. 

Roman's wife answered his knock with a confused expression. "What are you doing here, Seth?"

"I was looking for Roman; is he here?"

She looked even more confused. "Seth, Roman doesn't live here anymore."

Seth stared, shocked. "What?"

"We've been divorced for about a year." She eyed him curiously. "Obviously you aren't friends again or you'd have known that already. So why are you here?"

"I just needed to talk to him, couldn't find him at the arena. I guess I'll wait till he shows up there. Thanks."

Seth drove away wondering where Roman and Dean were, and how he hadn't known about Roman's divorce. Did anyone on the roster know, outside of Dean and the Usos? He guessed the answer was no. He had worked hard at making sure that Roman had no friends on the roster, and he'd mostly succeeded. The downside to that, however, was that there was no one from whom he could get any information. Roman's family--and they were legion--had shut him out as completely as Roman himself the second he had aligned himself with the Authority. There was no one who'd believe he was honestly worried about the Big Dog now.

God, what had been going on with Roman? A picture was beginning to emerge that wasn't pretty, and didn't paint Seth in a good light, either. Dean had been right in what he'd said to Seth: after attacking them and joining the Authority, Seth _had_ done everything he could to make their lives miserable. Much of what he'd done had been done out of jealousy of Roman's in-ring ability. Dean's, too, but mostly Roman's. It had frustrated him to no end that he struggled to beat wrestlers that Roman swatted with relative ease. Seth himself had never beaten Roman in an honest, straightforward fight. He either had help, or he attacked from behind.

Roman had been unfairly screwed out of the title several times. He'd gotten divorced. He'd been suspended. He'd been stripped of his friends and now lived in an enemy camp. Now he was seriously ill. If it wasn't for bad luck...

And Seth could admit, if only to himself, that he had been the architect of many of those problems. Deliberately, with malice aforethought.

Where would Roman have gone when he moved out? His family was huge, but not very widespread. With a few exceptions, most of Roman's family was right here, in Florida, so he had to be here, right?

With a jolt, he suddenly realized that he didn't know. Once, he would have known the answer, beyond the shadow of a doubt, but he didn't know _this_ Roman. This Roman was angrier, colder, and far more likely to snap. He'd seen what Roman had done to Sheamus and Triple H at TLC this year, and had been more than thankful not to be in that match. It was clear that Roman was tired of being fucked with. That being said, he couldn't think of anyone more likely to piss Roman off more than he himself did. He saw the contempt and anger in Roman's eyes every time the older man looked at him, which wasn't often if it could be avoided. Seth affected not to care, but a part of him recoiled at the realization that _he_ had caused Roman to look at him that way, all by himself. And he knew that, no matter what happened in the future, it was unlikely that Roman would ever trust him again. Seth had done his job too well, in that regard, and burned too many bridges. 

Sighing, Seth drove back toward Tampa. He wouldn't tell anyone about this little side trip or about the divorce. He figured he owed Roman that much, at least.

 

 

*RR*RR*RR*RR*RR*

 

 

Dean only rolled his eyes when his phone rang again later that afternoon and he recognized Rollins' phone number on the display, although he had long since deleted that contact. He ignored the call, but Rollins kept calling back, until Dean finally answered. "What the hell do you want?"

"I just want to know if Roman's okay. And are you in Florida? Will you just tell me that?"

"He's as good as can be expected with pneumonia. And why would you ask me where we are?"

Rollins' voice dropped as though he didn't want to be heard. "Because I drove out to Roman's house today and found out about the divorce."

Dean froze. Of all the people Roman didn't want knowing anything about his personal life, Seth Rollins topped the list. 

"I haven't told anyone," Rollins continued. "And I'm not gonna."

"Why would I trust anything you say, Rollins?"

Rollins' chuckle sounded pained. "Look, I get that you don't trust me, and you have no reason to. I get it. But Roman was my brother once too."

"Really? 'Cuz that ain't what _we_ heard. What _we_ heard was that we were nothing more than business partners you didn't give a shit about. We ain't heard nothin' different in the last two years. I ain't tellin' you shit, Rollins. You ain't got the right to ask."

"Hang up the phone," came a deep voice from behind him. Dean spun around to find Roman in the doorway, and it was clear from the steel grey eyes that he had heard enough to know who was on the other end. The steel transferred to Roman's voice. "Hang. Up. The phone."

"Is that Roman?" Rollins was asking. "Lemme talk to him."

Roman took two steps into the room and disconnected the call himself. "What the actual fuck, Dean? Why's he calling you all of a sudden?"

"Check your phone. I bet he called you, too."

"Why?"

"Says he's worried about you."

Roman stared at him long enough that Dean squirmed.

"Is this what you wanted to tell me the other day?" Roman asked. "That he's been calling?"

"Calling, hell, he came to the fucking hotel. And went to your house in Florida. He found out about the divorce." There was no point in not telling him now; he was already pissed. And he wasn't going to hide the information.

Roman's eyes darkened further.

"Did he, now?" he said in a dangerously soft tone. "Isn't that interesting."

Dean knew that tone. That was Roman contemplating causing trouble, something he definitely shouldn't be doing right now. As much as Dean would enjoy seeing Rollins catch some of what he had coming to him, he wasn't interested in seeing Roman kill himself to do it. "Let it wait till you're feeling better, Big Dog. Rollins ain't goin' anywhere. Neither are you, at the moment."

Roman closed his eyes, visibly throttling down fury. When he opened them again, he was calmer. "You're right. Rollins ain't goin' nowhere. And thanks for not telling me the day he came to the hotel. I might've lost my temper, and I definitely didn't need that."

Dean sighed with relief. Roman was going to be reasonable. Thank God. "You got an appointment with your doc tomorrow morning."

Roman nodded, starting to cough. Dean glanced at the clock on the nightstand. "Time for more meds, Big Dog."

"Yeah, yeah...listen, I doubt he will, but if Rollins calls again, I want to talk to him. I got an idea." His grin was truly evil in intent, and made even Dean wary. He'd never doubted that if Roman ever decided to let his iron control go, he could be very devious and very dangerous. He wasn't sure he wanted to know what his brother had in mind for Seth Rollins.

 

 

 


End file.
